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Blurr and Blast Off at the Olympics: Part One
Six Lasers - Bar Moon - Space That's no moon. It's a Bar Moon. Roughly a quarter the size of Earth's moon, Bar Moon is one of three Nepsan Lunar Satellites. The Moon has no breathable atmosphere, but a massive indoor city covers the entire surface. The city is one bar after another, ranging from safe, nearly family oriented pub and grills to sports bars to raunchy strip bars. There isn't a liquor for any alien species that one can't find on this moon. The one combining factor is that every bar has televisions set up to watch the Olympic games. Advertisements and tourism info booths are set up for those seeking transport to other attractions. Bar Moon is a major transportation hub, second only to Grand Central Station, with shuttles and cruise liners often leaving for most of the attractions. Artificial gravity wells keep the gravity close to Earth's, though after chugging too many back you might not notice. Blurr has arrived. Blast Off sits at one of the numerous bars on Bar Moon. Which one doesn't even matter, they are pretty much all the same to him. He did hear that it might be possible to find some of that "Black Tar" he especially likes here, but so far the Combaticon shuttle hasn't found it. It's supposed to be incredibly rare, after all... it took being "sacrificed to the gods" for him to get his hands on the stuff before. He absentmindedly stirs his drink as he sits at the bar -off in the corner, in the shadows, as per his usual. And when did sitting at a bar become his usual, anyway? He doesn't even like bars... and yet here he is. He tells himself it's because he has nothing else to do while he waits for the next Olympic event. Events which haven't gone so well for him so far... well, except for that ONE event. But he'd rather not think about it, because then he has think about that blasted thorn-in-his-side. He pulls out a datapad and begins reading. And then, as if on cue, as Blast Off's thoughts return to the one match that he did win, an advertisement comes onto the videopane above the bar. And yes, it's the advertisement that Gycony had been talking about. And the toys...oh the toys. As promised, the deluxe double packages. Speaking of thorns in one's sides..."Hey look, it's us!" A voice calls out from behind the Combaticon. Blast Off stares at the ad in disgust. Deluxe double packages? As he watches the images flash on the screen, he has to wonder how long it's going to take for someone like Vortex or Brawl (or Blitzwing *shudder*) to rub this in...incessantly. And Onslaught... he doesn't even WANT to know. Swindle... it's all about paying off Swindle... that's his story and he's sticking to it. Violet-gray optics do flick up to study his own toy... hmmm, the optics are the wrong color, but overall it's not actually that ba... no, no, no. He shakes his head and goes back to trying to decide if he should attempt to avoid the toys at all costs, or gather up a bunch of the Blurr toys and use them as target practice. Practice for the REAL thing, of course. Then a voice calls out behind him, and he freezes. Oh great. He stares straight ahead, steeling himself, then starts to turn around. Wait, no. He looks back towards the front so that he can grab his drink and swallow most of it in one shot... THEN he looks back behind him. "There's YOU... and ME. Not US." Blurr, of course, walks in with a group of fembots hanging off of him. He chuckles. "Oh come on now, you know we couldn't win with that kind of mentality." he says, waving the fan club off. They disperse with an air of disappointment, and the speedster plops himself down onto a stool next to Blast Off. "We are a team, on the team combat rosters. I know you don't like this, but might as well make the best of it, right?" Blast Off glares at the fanclub as they walk away. Not that he's jealous... of course not. Nope. Not a bit. The Combaticon is suddenly hit with a greater-than-usual pang of his ever-present loneliness, which he chases away with another swig of his drink. He sets it back down with a little bit more of a *slam* than he intended, and nods to the departing femmes. "Well, I see *you're* doing just fine. But this must be per the norm for you, of course." He huffs softly and orders another drink. Turning back to glare again at Blurr, he asks, "Don't you have someone else you could be bothering? Like... that mini-bot, what's his name? Swagger? Swish? Swerve?... He was practically tripping over himself to be noticed by you at that other event..." "Who?" Blurr looks thoughtful for a moment, then nods. "Oh, yeah! Swerve, the one who won third in the race. Did you know he won first in the Autobot Free-For-All? Heh. Well, anyway, you're my teammate for this thing, like I said. We need to learn how to work together." He gives the Combaticon a solid pat on the back. "So, make the best of it, yeah?" Blast Off bristles at the contact and makes a point of scooting slightly away from the Autobot to increase distance, fixing him with a steady, standoffish glare the whole time. "Space. It refers to more than just the galaxy, Blurr." He receives a new drink and takes a swig, then looks glumly off towards the televsion screens nearby as he snarks, "Ah. Yes, I heard. What is with your mini-bots, anyway? I'm starting to think they're your *greatest* warriors..." He suddenly has visions of Tailgate, the one Autobot who was able to hit him during his last real battle, showing up at the sharpshooting event and beating him there, too. The Combaticon pokes at his drink again, looking glumly at it. "And exactly how are we supposed to work together? You forget the whole "we're usually trying to offline each other" thing? Are you suggesting we shake hands and share battle tactics now? Next you'll want to start exchanging friend codes and go on movie nights..." The Combaticon snorts. Blurr laughs. "Hey, don't underestimate the minibots, now! I would have thought you'd have learned that lesson by now, given what happened to you after we drove the Coalition off." And yes, he is referring to Tailgate. "How are we supposed to work together, you ask? Well, think of it as a challenge, you like challenges, don't you? I mean, after the rest of the galaxy ganging up on us, don't you think that might actually be a valuable skill? Being able to team up with even your least favorite mech in the universe, should the situation call for it?" Blast Off glares some more at the Autobot, who is... making sense. "I ...*really* hate it when you make sense, Blurr." But it is true... there are many races out there who are not pleased with Cybertronians. Some want them wiped from existance, some want to control them or enslave them. The Combaticon has had quite enough of offlining, imprisonment, mind-control, and various other unpleasantries. He starts to protest that Tailgate just got lucky... but decides to take another drink instead. "This... has been far more of a challenge than I ever expected." He may be getting drunk enough to actually be a bit honest. He looks at Blurr. "What do they have against us, anyway? I understand that some simply protest our ransacking of their resources..." (not that the Combaticon has any qualms about such ransacking, but he decides not to specifically point it out...) "But some, like the Quintessons, seem to actually think they are BETTER than us." He shakes his head in disbelief. "See, you know I'm right." Blurr grins and orders some light engex for himself. "If we were never challenged, we'd never get anywhere. We'd never change, never reach our fullest potential. That, Blast Off, is why we need each other." The bartender delivers his order, and he nods his thanks before waving the guy off. "I'll tell you why the rest of the galaxy hates us," he says, taking a sip from the cube-shaped glass as he lowers his voice. "I mean, we have to be honest with ourselves, our war has laid waste to quite a few civilizations. Like pretty much every civilization it has touched, whether we'd like to admit it or not." Blast Off studies Blurr for a moment and considers his next response. He could just say, well, that's simply too bad for THEM then, isn't it? Which is largely how he feels, too. The Combaticon is not known for his kindness or compassion towards targets, after all. Yet- he can understand what Blurr is saying. And even understand the afflicted civilization's anger. Though he's never really spent too much of his own time actually considering it. He can't resist playing devil's advocate, however. "You speak as if war is a bad thing. And..." *he shrugs* "...it is quite destructive. Certainly, parts of civilization suffer at times of war, and that is, perhaps... a shame. Arts, culture, ways of life... many things are lost." He takes a sip from his glass again. "You might even be surprised to know that I sometimes miss those things." But then he gives Blurr a hard look. "And yes, lives are lost, too. But war... COMBAT... also has a way of sparking inventions, and new technology.... As a Combaticon, I cannot ignore the things war can DO for a civilization." He shrugs again. "Well, if it survives the process that is..." Another sip. "But I suppose other civilzations probably do not see things quite that way, do they?" "Pff, it doesn't take quantum mechanics to figure that one out. But yeah, the answer is no, they don't." Blurr shakes his head. "I didn't say war was all bad, though...now did I?" As it turns out, it's Blast Off who is surprised. The Combaticon blinks at the 'Bot. "I thought all you Autobots were supposed to be a bunch of bleeding fuel-pump peaceniks who long for the good old days of the "Golden Age" and hate the chaos of war and everything associated with it". His optics narrow. "We both know that's a lie, of course...at least for some of you... but I don't often hear an Autobot admit it. Especially from someone who did so well back before the war, when he was the racing circuit's darling." "Think of it this way. We're Cybertronians. What's our signature ability? We transform, right? In fact, some races even call us 'Transformers', how about that? Change is part of who we are, Blast Off. We need to evolve in order to achieve our highest potential. And in order to evolve, we need challengers worthy of our combat prowess. You see, that's why you NEED me, and vice versa. Because otherwise, no one else would be able to match your marksmanship skills with their speed and versatility! And with no challenges...there is no improvement. Not for us. You see, other civilizations just don't get that--so they label us as violent and savage, a race of mindless killing machines who destroy everything in our path." He smirks and glances momentarily up at the videopane, which has switched to a live feed of another Olympic sparring match before turning back to the Combaticon. "Plus, they're just jealous of how we don't die like they do. I mean, we do, but yeah--not like they do." Blast Off blinks, then turns to look at his drinking glass. "I must be more drunk than I thought... because you're making sense. A LOT more sense than usual." He lifts his drink to take another swig, then thinks better of it and places the glass down. And pushes it away. The Combaticon stares at the glass for a moment. "Indeed. Other life forms should just accept our natural superiority. Of course, they are jealous, and they fear what they do not understand. I will not hesitate to take what is mine, or defend my race. But if they understood to mind their own business... Well, I am usually content to do the same." He leaves out the part where he will- up until he needs something from them. Plus, wait a minute... he gives Blurr a skeptical look. "...If I didn't know better, I'd *almost* think you just gave me a compliment. " He studies the 'Bot some more. "But you are correct... I will admit, I... have... learned a few things in recent times. I am quite *skilled*, of course, but... life that stagnates dies. One must adapt, as you say. Everything in this incredibly vast and amazing cosmos we are in is a constant cauldron of change and chaos... I don't know why anyone would deny that." "Exactly!" Blurr grins and points, because Blast Off just hit the nail on the head. "'Life that stagnates, dies.' Eventually. That's why most other civilizations have gone extinct, died out. But because we're so good at changing, evolving...we didn't, and we won't. UNLESS we stagnate." You say, "Exactly!" Blast Off actually leans in towards Blurr slightly, raising a hand as he shakes a finger in agreement. "Combat has its uses... it's messy, and loud, and inconvenient, (which are admitedly not my favorite things)... but it also fosters growth!" Then he remembers himself, leaning back and staring at Blurr. "I... really don't like it when you make sense, Blurr. Stop that." He looks back towards the screen, where more ads are playing." Blurr laughs. "Aw, come on. Are you sure you don't like it? You didn't seem to mind it so much just now. I'm just pointing out that you and I, we're not so different. Autobot or Decepticon, we're all Cybertronian. We have our shining sparks, and we have duller ones." He leans in a bit more, and lowers his voice. "It's just...the problem with you 'Cons, is that you've got a madmech for a leader. Scorponok might not be quite as bad as Galvatron, but his reign won't last long, trust me. As soon as that Unicron spawn shows up again you'll all be forced to submit to his will, whatever it is. I'm telling you, as long as he's subjecting your entire faction to his every whim, you guys will never realize your full potential. He'll continue to be hell-bent on wiping out all of his opposition, but the truth is, like I said--we all need worthy opposition. We have to keep this war going in order to accomplish our highest potential. Of course, you'll never be able to convince him of that. But fortunately for you--for all of us--not all of you are as blind to the truth as he is. I'm pretty confident that if we Autobots hadn't purged Galvatron from Vector Sigma, Shockwave would have found a way to do the job himself." Blast Off traces the rim of his glass with his finger as Blurr laughs. ".... I'm not so sure about that..." He may just be saying that because he doesn't WANT to admit it might be true... "You are, quite frankly, a showoff. I prefer a quieter, less flashy approach to getting the job done. Have you EVER done something quietly in your life, I wonder?" He gazes at Blurr. "...But yes, I'm sure there are individuals on BOTH sides we wouldn't mind swapping with the other...." Then Blurr brings up leadership of the Decepticons, which is not an easy subject for Blast Off. Especially with the loyalty program stuck in his cerbro-cortex. He sighs, not looking at Blurr... looking pretty much anywhere else, in fact. "Yes, Blurr, I'm sure you have the Decepticon's best interests in mind... and you're not just saying that because if he succeeded, that means YOU and your friends die.", he snarks. "However, things are not that simple. Sometimes we have... little choice on who we follow. We learn to simply...adapt, like you said, and deal with things as best we can. Shockwave is probably the ...logical choice..." Pun not intended. Or maybe it was? While the Combaticon's loyalty program affects his ability to think clearly about Galvatron, it does not do so with anyone else. "And I believe he would probably do a good job of leadership. However, Scorponok IS the current leader. I am not quite sure I like a leader with an organic in his head, that is rather revolting, but..." The Combaticon shrugs, "I cannot really do much about it, either. If I had my way, I'd probably want Onslaught to be leader... but... I might be biased." Blast Off looks to Blurr again. "What about the Autobots? I'm sure you have your disagreements as well. And slag, wasn't it Rodimus' fault that Galvatron is... well, less sane than he used to be? So aren't you Autobots partially to blame for all that?" Blurr waves a dismissive hand in the air. "It doesn't matter whose fault it was. The fact is he's crazy." He pauses and gives Blast Off a pointed look. "And whether we'd like to admit it or not, what happens to one faction will undoubtedly affect the other in due time. We are still one race, one species. Yeah sure, I wouldn't like myself and my friends to get pulverized any more than you would, but that's not the big picture here. Like I said, we need each other in order to keep evolving. Species that stop evolving eventually stop existing. Who else out there in the rest of the galaxy could possibly stand a chance against you? You said it yourself, we're the superior beings." "And heh, sure...Onslaught would make a better leader than Galvatron, that's for sure." Blast Off 's black hand keep tracing his glass rim, but he still doesn't take a drink. "Well, he has not shown up recently. He may be planning something big, or... he may just be being ...crazy, like you say." His finger stops and looks at it sourly. "So we keep fighting an endless battle... and evolve into what? More efficient battle machines, I suppose." Not that that's a bad thing, of course, but some days Blast Off would like to be a mercenary again, just wandering through space with his team. Or perhaps even an explorer, which is how he started life. "Yes, our superiority is without question. And battle between us does keep refining it, and molding that perfection." The Combaticon tilts his head and plays devil's advocate again. "But then again, if one side DID win... wouldn't that force the other side to adapt as well? ...Provided they survived the process?" Blast Off glances ever-so-slightly skyward... towards the stars. "Perhaps even freeing us up for other ...pursuits? Surely you would enjoy racing again?" Blast Off considers something and glances at Blurr with a "smirk" in his expression. "...Again, provided you survived... and COULD race again." "Heh, I don't know." Blurr shrugs at the question of what they could become. "Presumably it'll be something better than what we are now. But that's the thing you know? If one side did win, they'd need someone or something else to challenge, that would be worthy of the challenge in order to keep on evolving. And what the slag else is there out there anyway? That's why we've been at war with ourselves for so long. Because for all this time there hasn't been anything else to challenge our superiority but ourselves." he points out, sipping on his drink again before continuing. "Point is...you need someone in charge who is fully aware of all this. Someone who will know when to hold back. Not just because we don't want to be pulverized by Galvatron, but because it serves the purpose of our continued evolution and therefore existence as a species. And I'm telling you right now, that person is NOT Galvatron." "Oh and it's not Scorponok either. A guy with a fleshy in his head? Come on." Blast Off huffs a little and gives Blurr an annoyed expression. "And what exactly am I supposed to do about all this, anyway?" He lowers his audio output and almost says as an aside, "Though I do agree, the entire Headmasters concept is... distasteful. It makes my surface crawl just to think about it. I like organics to keep their distance- not live inside me." He looks around... you never know who might be listening, so he decides not to go further. Slag, who's to say Blurr wouldn't blackmail him with anything especially scandalous? The fact remains, he doesn't like Scorponok much... and what's worse, he actually thinks the disgusting yet crafty organic Zarak usually makes more sense than the brutish, thuggish Decepticon who houses him. But he's not going to actually say this outloud. He finally reaches for a drink again. "There's nothing I can do, Blurr." Of course, he might help Shockwave if things ever came down to that... but he's not broadcasting that, either. "If YOU know what to do, then go for it. Tell you what, I'll actually take a moment of silent rememberence if I see your remains afterward." "I didn't say you were supposed to do anything." Blurr shrugs, turning back to his drink. "But--that being said, if people like Shockwave at least know they have support, people who agree with them? They're more likely to act." He shakes his head at the comment about Headmasters. "Tch, well we can agree on that too, then. It's pretty gross, if you think about it, having a fleshy living in your head. As if we NEED them, hah!" "I can't imagine you like it when Zarak orders you around, either." Blast Off raises an optical ridge at Blurr and states in a flat voice, "Right. This is all fuel pump to fuel pump advice because we are such good friends now." The comment about Zarak makes him bristle. "No. Not particularly, but if he's the leader, I shall do what he says." That last comment is especially there just in case any of this ever DOES get back to Zarak and Scorponok... Blast Off feels his fuel pressure rising. The Combaticon grips his drink, taking a swig, then places it down to lean in towards Blurr. "What is it with you and Shockwave? Why do you want to see him in charge of the Decepticons, and why do you keep trying to manipulate me into "showing my support"? Yes, Blurr, I know you're up to something... you're not nearly as clever as you think you are." His optics flash bright purple, then go back to their usual violet-gray. "So what exactly is it? Are the Autobots planning something?" Not that Blurr would tell him, even if they were... the Combaticon gives a small huff, then settles back into a more aloof demeanor... but still gazing at the Autobot. "What? You think I'm trying to be crafty or something? Tch." Blurr shakes his head, shrugging it off. "No, really. I'm being serious, Blast Off. I don't just say these things to the other 'Bots, for obvious reasons." Of course, he's lying... Blast Off huffs again. "Sure. Blurr, I'm going to have to be a lot more drunk than I am right now before I start to believe we are suddenly "bestest buddies" here." He leans further in- much closer than the standoffish shuttle usually likes, and glares up at the Autobot. "Arch rivals, remember? I will work with you on the Team Combat because I want to WIN... but do not expect me to think we have suddenly become friends." At that moment, another ad for "Blast Off. Blurr. Two pricks. One team!" comes on again. The shuttle flings a hand towards the screen. "That will not be for very much longer. And then we go back to trying to offline each other." He gets temporarily distracted by the toy shown on the screen. "And speaking of annoying organics, could they at least get my optical color correct?" Indeed, Blast Off's toy's optics are red, not purple... and there's one Blurr toy with red optics as well. "These organics think we all look the same! Their prejudice is showing..." There's yet another annoyed huff from his shuttle vents. "Hah..." Blurr chuckles. "And you're surprised by this? These people just want to make a fortune off of us." It's true, isn't it? "But when did I say anything about 'bestest buddies'? In fact, I said we had to stay archrivals because we need challengers, remember? Or are you too overcharged already? Heh. I say these things to you because most other 'Bots would just be...totally scandalized if I said it to them." Blast Off looks dubiously at Blurr. He raises his hand and counts off on his fingers, "Let's see... you've complimented me tonight... A FIRST, I believe," he raises one finger (yes, Blast Off definitely remembers the compliment), then raises the rest one by one, "...and you've probably agreed with me more often in this one conversation than the entire time I have ever known you. And you are surprised I'm suspicious?" He reaches his arm over for a drink, then rethinks it after the "overcharged" comment and goes back to simply glaring at the Autobot. "And worst of all, you've actually been making SENSE. Since when do you make sense?" Blurr chuckles. "Wow, I'm flattered you think I'm that clever." he comments, finishing off the drink and setting the empty glass down. "And for the archives that wasn't the first time I ever complimented you, I'm pretty sure I have complimented you quite a few times before this. But I guess I should expect that you'd be surprised at how many things we actually do agree on." Blast Off pauses. Wait, has Blurr complimented him before? Suddenly the Combaticon wants to know, and then is annoyed that he wants to know. Pffft, doesn't matter what a lowly Autobot thinks anyway, right?....But ....slaggit, what was it? All Blast Off can remember is a calvacade of tiny, taunting Blurrs racing through his memory circuits... always laughing at him with that smirk of his. Usually after Blast Off has been defeated, or at least checkmated, somehow. The Combaticon has spent a lifetime building up "walls" and establishing distance... as protection from numerous things, treachery being one. He is not one to trust easily. He crosses his arms (not totally easy, what with the heat shields on them) and replies haughtily, "You like to put on a show and you think you're quite the gifted one. I don't hear much else from you, except when you want something." The shuttle glances at the bar again, but resists a drink for now. His elbows sink onto the counter at he leans against it, looking nowhere in particular. "But perhaps it is possible we might agree on ONE thing or two." He looks questioningly at Blurr. "You really don't like organics either? Don't tell me you've ever accidentally run one over or something? ...Heh. THAT I'd like to see..." Blurr throws his head back a bit and laughs at Blast Off's words. "Hah! That's what you think, isn't it? You really think you know me, do you? You think I'm convinced I'm perfect at everything, or something. No wonder you keep underestimating me." he shakes his head, pushing his empty glass away. "Yes, I'm a showoff, because that's what I was trained to do ever since the beginning. Not because I wanted to, just because that's what I thought I was supposed to do in life. So when Orion Pax wanted me to warn Zeta Prime that the Decepticons were planning on assassinating him, of course I jumped at the chance to not only show the rest of the planet how good I was but also do something meaningful and important beyond simple entertainment at the same time, which meant even more basking in the limelight plus a renewed sense of heroic purpose." Blast Off leans away slightly, annoyed, as Blurr laughs. The Combaticon wants to immediately correct the Autobot, insisting he does NOT underestimate him. But he's been protesting such things quite a while, and even one intent on denial can get ...tired of denying all the time. No, he's just going to SHOW the Autobot. One of these days. Show, not tell, like Onslaught said, right? He remains aloof, watching with disinterest as some other Cybertronians walk by. "Oh, so you actually have a thoughtful streak, is that it? You actually question yourself sometimes." he asks dubiously. Of course, the real reason Blast Off may be convinced that Blurr thinks himself nearly perfect is because... Blast Off tends to fall into that category. And it is easy to project your own line of thinking onto the motivations of others. The rest of Blurr's words cause Blast Off to roll his optics. "Herioc purpose. NOW you sound like an Autobot." He orders another drink. "I did not NEED a herioc purpose. I knew my worth from the day I was created. Many species fly through space... but few ever get to do it as *I* do. To actually FEEL spacedust and cosmic waves on my surface as I fly through them. I chart galaxies... and open the way for those who do not have my abilities, but desire to follow the paths I create." The bartender brings the drink and Blast Off sips from it. "Oh come on, don't tell me YOU don't doubt yourself, sometimes." Blurr says, folding his arms. "Psh, why am I even asking you that, you'll probably just deny it. But you know it, you know you do." "But seriously, just look at who I was, back then? The life I lived? Of course I wanted to be the hero. Of course I wanted to save the Prime! If you'd been in my place you'd have wanted it, too." Blast Off denies it, of course. "Why would I need to doubt myself?" He sniffs with his customary haughty air, then takes a sip of his drink. His ego is legendary for a reason, after all. Even when he DOES doubt, the shuttle tends to wrap it up in so much denial that even HE has a hard time sorting it all out. Grudgingly, Blast Off has to nod. "Perhaps so. We both have done things that we have believed helped the causes we cared about. Regardless of the consequences." His hand tightens on his glass. "But would you ever understand where, say, someone like ME comes from? I doubt it. Would you ever be prepared to do ANYTHING it takes to acomplish a goal? Even things that you might never have wanted to do? Do things that push aside personal glory- or dignity..."(*he huffs*)"... where you work like an.. an inanimate object! Or even lose who you are entirely to merge towards creating something- someone- larger than yourself ...and you do this FOR your team?" Huh. Blurr smirks as Blast Off complains about combiners. "Oh, so you don't like turning into Bruticus, huh? But he makes you kind of invaluable, doesn't he? Aren't you grateful for that?" Then he grins and holds up his hands. "Wait, wait--don't tell me--you'd rather be inexpendable own your own, withOUT needing to be part of a gestalt? Heh." he turns back toward the bar. "Doesn't matter, anyway. Everyone would be expendable to Galvatron, if he had his way." You say, "No." Blast Off says quietly, and honestly, at Blurr's question regarding being on his own, away from the gestalt. "No. I wouldn't want to be on my own... alone." He stares into his glass, then gives Blurr a frank look. "I know full well that the only reason I'm alive right now is because of Bruticus. He's the only reason Megatron didn't destroy us after that battle, and instead he just..." He blinks and trails off. "I know Bruticus makes us invaluable. Our individual skills and abilities matter, too, but ultimately- Decepticon leaders want and value obvious power the most, and Bruticus *IS* obvious power. ...I take pride in being part of that. I doubt it's something you could ever understand. A non-combiner probably never could truly understand." He takes a very long drink after all that. Setting the glass down, his optics are the brightest thing about him as he sits in the shadows. "I suppose so, but Galvatron's not here right now. If you're such a fan of Shockwave, go talk to him. He might actually listen to you. I've never met an Autobot so *fascinated* by Decepticon hierarchies..."" "Fascinated with Decepticon hierarchies? I thought we already discussed the fact that it's more of concern for the greater good of all Cybertronians." Blurr frowns, gesturing around them at the other Cybertronian patrons. "I wouldn't say I'm a fan of Shockwave, I'm just pretty sure that he'd make a better leader than Galvatron, and him in charge of the Decepticons is better for us overall." Talk to Shockwave? Heh, been there, done that. "But wait a klik now, you just got done saying that you don't like having to give up your own individuality to form something greater for the rest of your team. You regard yourself as above everyone else, yet you don't want to be alone...and you STILL say you never doubt yourself? I find that a bit hard to believe." You say, "I suppose so..." Blast Off nods reluctantly, then narrows his optics. "You're almost making sense again. That really annoys me, Blurr. Of course, the shakedown that *that* would entail would create a nice bit of chaos until it settled down. I'm sure the Autobots wouldn't mind that at all." He glares at the blue hovercar 'Bot. At the rest of the comments, Blast Off begins to look just a bit flustered now. He grabs his drink, raising it halfway and then setting it down again with a huff. "I just said that I ...value my individuality, but I am willing to make sacrifices for the good of my team. We stick together, we always have. I know that together we can accomplish things we could not do ...alone." He jerks his head back angrily. "And when I said I didn't want to be alone I was simply referring to being without a team, that is all. I MUCH prefer spending my time alone in space, far away from the usual noise and inferior idiots I have to deal with..." He takes another long drink. No, he's not in denial, nope. "Doubt doesn't enter the equation." The Combaticon says loftily, then leans back in. "And what about you, Blurr? So you say you have doubts, fine. What about sacrifices? Are there things you're willing to sacrifice? What makes you tick, pray tell?"" Blast Off leans in further. "Have you ever suffered? Do you even know what that's like?" As IF I'm going to tell HIM what makes me 'tick'. Blurr stands up, sliding off of his barstool. "Then in that way, we aren't so different. Both of us are willing to make sacrifices for the good of the team. You're conflicted, I'm conflicted. I may be more of a showoff than you, just because I was trained that way, but you certainly have your own ego, Blast Off. I just happen to be a bit more open and honest about mine than you are about yours. So how are we so different anyway? You even admitted that some of your own teammates are a bunch of glitcheads. Are they still better than Autobots just because they're supposed to be on your side? Heh. The purpose of this war is for the sake of our continued survival as a species, not to prove one faction's superiority over the other, right?" The speedster starts walking out of the bar, but turns around momentarily before heading off. "Think about it." Blast Off watches Blurr head off. "Fine. I will think about it. "Partner"." Blast Off moves to take another drink, thinks better of it, puts the glass down and pulls out his datapad to begin reading again. He clicks on an archive he hasn't looked at in awhile...a detailed history of the Autobot and Decepticon war, including things he missed while in the Detention Center, and begins reading them again.